Only That Would Be Torture
by CupOCyanide
Summary: Morticia and Gomez get caught in the rain. (one shot)


It was a dark and stormy night on Cemetary Drive, Gomez and Morticia were walking in the cemetery behind the house before the rain started. They were a ways from the house when the rain started, they were soaked. Drowned rats. Gomez could not take his eyes off of Morticia while they were running for the house. Well, he was running for the house. Morticia can't run in her dress, it's so tight. Just like her ass, says Gomez. Gomez scooped her up and ran for the old house with her in his arms.

"Tish, you're drenched," Gomez said looking down at Morticia's soaked dress, she was not wearing her bra.

Once they got to the house, he carried her all the way up the staircase to their room to get out of those wet clothes. Morticia peeled her tight, wet dress off of her moistened skin like plastic wrap on a Kraft cheese slice. Gomez, half undressed, stopped to watch this spectacle.

"Tequito..." he whispered.

Morticia looked up at him with her almost too big, ice blue eyeballs.

Cooing at him, "Venez détruire cette chatte."

Gomez ran toward her but tripped over the pants still gathered around his ankles. He rolled forward, picking up speed he plowed into Morticia like a bowling pin.

"TISH! That's French!" he squealed.

Morticia was still in her wet dress, and getting up from the floor was hard enough in dry clothing. She inched away like an inchworm towards her antique makeup table. A table is an item of furniture made from many different, suitable materials, which has been used worldwide, particularly in the Western world since at least the 7th Century. Most of the early examples of tables consist of a flat slab of stone, metal, wood or glass, supported by legs, pillars or a stone base. She grabbed the corner of the makeup table and picked herself up. Gomez was struggling after her. Morticia liked to toy with him. As soon as he was close enough to grab her, she curved him so hard. He fell face first onto the oriental rug. Morticia quickly scurried away, giggling.

"Don't try to resist me, Querida," Gomez growled at her.

Morticia sat down at her vanity and started brushing her long, wet, black hair.

"Are you going to ignore me now cara mia?"

Morticia put vaseline on her forehead in her vanity and said nothing. Gomez was in the mood and did not like the way Morticia was ignoring his needs, and ignoring him in general.

"If you're going to play that way, I have ways of making you talk."

Gomez reached under the bed and pulled out a cheese wheel.

"Gomez, must you torture me this way, put that back."

Morticia stood up from her vanity, wearing nothing still, and skipped towards Gomez. He grabbed Morticia and threw her on the bed in a crazed manner. Morticia hit her head on the poster of their four-poster bed.

*dink* "Ahhh my noggin," she whined.

Gomez Superman launched himself onto the bed. The impact on the mattress sent Morticia up into the air and she hit her head on the ceiling, again. *dink* Gomez caught her in his loving embrace. Morticia looked into this big brown eyes, her vision unfocused.

"Oh Gomez," she cooed.

Gomez leaned forward, his tongue ajar, and licked the tip of Morticia's nose.

She rubbed her nose off on his shoulder, "Darling no that smells like spit."

Gomez clenched his jaw. Leaning forward again he grabbed Morticia's nose in his mouth and sucked it in. Morticia squirmed, but Gomez had pinned her down. With an audible pop, he released her. Morticia was breathing hard, staring at Gomez in disbelief. Gomez loomed over her. his gaze boring into her soul. As he loomed over her, he stared at her perfect face. Big blue eyes, moundy forehead, her tiny little chin. Gomez ran his finger up her neck and Morticia tilted her head back. As she did this, Gomez latched onto her chin and bit her like a lamprey. Morticia pushed him off of her in shock.

"Gomez! What has gotten into you?! Why are you a raging animal today?"

Gomez, unable to control the fire burning through his Castilian blood, shouted to her at the end of the bed, "Morticia! you're all woman. Let's go down to the playroom and you can put Frank's red hot on my Castilian nipples."

Morticia got on all fours like a tiger ready to pounce, "OHHH you like it spicy do you?! You like that sizzle?"

Gomez sat up on his knees, "Yeah I just said that."

Morticia spread legs wide in her crouch and shook her butt. She rolled onto her back, legs spread. She stared blankly at the ceiling where she hit her head. Silent as the grave. Gomez screwed up his face taking in her scent. He could smell her from across the bed. Cinnamon and chamomile. Morticia liked to use tea bags in place of tampons. Gomez rawr XD aloud. Launched himself into the air his index finger stiff and pointing the way, he came down and perfectly landed with his finger in Morticia's belly button. She purred at his touch. Gomez wiggles his finger around in her navel. Morticia gripped the sheets. He liked to watch her, he inserted another finger.

"HUHHH Darling please!" she bellowed.

Gomez moved his fingers in and out rapidly, sweat beading up on his forehead. He removed his fingers, wanting to see her suffer.

Morticia's face shot up and glared at him, "Finish it!"

Gomez did this to Morticia for about 15 minutes until she could no longer handle it.

"Gomez! The way you finger punch my oatmeal bowl sets my soul ablaze!"

Gomez was wound up, sitting at the edge of the bed, the Frank's red hot dripping from his hard little Castilian nipples. Morticia had never seen Gomez this way. Not since their honeymoon in Devil's Island, when the coconuts turned him on.

"Morticia, the perfume you're wearing is absolutely stunning, buy a barrel of it."

 **"Gomez, I just farted."**

Gomez inhaled the toxicating aroma. He crawled towards her. Kissing every inch of her. Toes, shins, knees, thighs, hip bone, naval, ribs, each boob, her hand, forearm, elbow, shoulders, collarbones, neck, jawbone, cheekbone, ears, forehead...forehead some more, and finally he stopped and loomed over her mouth.

Both breathing heavy, staring into each other's eyes. Morticia flicked her tongue across her top lip. Gomez growled. He couldn't stand it any longer and his mouth crashed into hers. Their teeth clinked and their tongues danced. Morticia snaked her arms around his neck. Then she snaked her legs around his hips. Then she snaked her hands into his hair. Then she snaked her tongue all over his mouth, inside and out. Such slobbery, slimy kisses made Gomez horny AF...because snails make slime and snails are French.

Gomez felt a rush of blood go to his you know what. He was ready to play hide the sausage. Morticia was trembling in passion and excitement. As Gomez was planting kisses all over her pale little body, Morticia reached up on her nightstand and flicked on the radio. A radio has sound that is directed through two or more speakers so that it seems to surround the listener and to come from more than one source. Once Gomez heard the radio playing he stopped dead in his tracks when he heard what song was playing. "The Devil Went Down to Georgia." It was their wedding song. The sound of the fiddle playing sent Gomez into a rage of passion. They did not emerge from their bedroom for three days.


End file.
